


The Heir and The Spare

by eliaparadiso



Category: Snow White - All Media Types, The Huntsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Civil War, Courting Rituals, F/F, Fight for the Throne, Lesbian Sex, Medieval Medicine, Politics, Religion, Religious Conflict, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23189383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliaparadiso/pseuds/eliaparadiso
Summary: Snow White was never the heir of Tabor. Magnus' brother's wife gave birth before the Queen. With no heir in sight Magnus named his brother Edward's daughter his heir. With the noble factions divided between the Heir, Lady Ophelia, Duchess of Corven and the Spare Princess Snow White. Ravenna makes a choice to keep herself on the throne.
Relationships: Ravenna (The Huntsman)/Original Female Character, Snow White/William (The Huntsman)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. The History of Tabor and The Heir

**Author's Note:**

> This work includes the use of traditionally male titles for female identified characters. There is a reason for this and it is to establish a hierarchy of nobles that has nothing to do with gender and everything to do with station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This FanFiction uses the canonical hours which are the seven specified hours for prayer to tell time.  
> Matins - Daybreak  
> Prime- 6 a.m.  
> Terce or Tierce- 9a.m.  
> Sext- noon  
> nones- 3 p.m.  
> Evensong/Vespers- Sunset  
> Compline- 9 or 10 p.m.

The Kingdom of Tabor had been ruled by the DuPray family for centuries. Till the Lavender war, so named for the battles that happened in the Tabor Lavender fields. The DuPray family had fallen to the Spenser family. Æthelred Spenser, Lord of Greyvall, became King Athelred I. 

He was succeeded by his daughter, who took the title of King Ælfthryth. She married Charles, Lord of Corven. Giving birth to 6 sons Edgar, Alfred, Harold, George, Godwin, and Edmund. 

Alfred was crowned king 6 months after his mother's death, Alfred II. Edmund died when he was six from tuberculosis. George after he was trampled by his own horse. Edgar in the battle of Vend. Harold married the queen of Stalbrind and became king. Then Godwin joined the priesthood and became the Bishop of Elmire. 

Alfred had a long and prosperous reign. He opened trade routes and turned Tabor into one of the richest kingdoms in the world. He gave birth to one son, Edmund who became King Edmund III. 

Edmund married Queen Elsinore of Velsh, and had three children. Edward, Magnus and Richard. 

Richard had died shortly after his birth but his elder brothers survived and grew into strapping young men. 

At 24 Edward was crowned King Edward X and seven years later fell in love with a Widow, Elizabeth, wife of the former Lord of Vend. She had no children but the church still objected. Rather than keep her dishonest as his mistress he did the unthinkable. He gave up the throne. He crowned his brother King Magnus I and married Elizabeth. 

Magnus soon married Elinor of Ackwin and began to try for an heir. They had no luck, they tried everything and Elinor remained barren. Growing jealous of her sister in law, Elizabeth who was pregnant within the year. 

Edward and Elizabeth had one daughter, Ophelia. Magnus, angry with his lack of heir by his wife declared Ophelia his official heir. He bestowed on her the title of Duke of Corven, a title reserved for the eldest of a king. He named her Lady of the Thistle, when she came of age she would be the queen’s protector and leader of the Queen's Guard. 

Queen Elinor was furious that her husband would bestow the rightful titles of her children on this lesser girl. Elinor hated Elizabeth for taking away her children’s rights. So she vowed to give birth to a proper heir even if it killed her. 

She traveled to a witch, Old Mira, and asked for a child with hair as black as a raven’s wing, skin as white as snow and lips as red as blood. Mira promised her this child, she did not tell the queen that this child would cost the queen her life. Elinor announced her pregnancy during Ophelia’s 8th birthday. Happy to stick it to the little girl. She grew even angrier when Ophelia was more excited than her husband at the news. Magnus embraced her and thanked her for  _ finally _ doing her duty. 

Elinor had a fitful pregnancy, she was sick constantly. But finally on a warm summer evening she gave birth to a little girl she named ‘Snow White’, against the wishes of her Husband who wished to name the child after his mother Elsinore. People whispered about the strange name the queen had chosen. 

“You have a true born heir now, give her the birthright she deserves!” Elinor begged her husband. 

“Elinor you must understand, my brother gave me this crown. It is only right that his child inherit her birthright.” 

“The birthright belongs to Snow, your daughter. I demand that Ophelia be sent away, Magnus. Please I do not like the way she looks at me and my daughter, she already talks about being queen and it makes Snow and the other children scared.”

“I suppose it might be best if she was away from the bustling court. Surrounded by tutors and generals. She can grow away from bias and be the best queen she can be.” 

“That is all I ask for, husband.” 

Edward yelled and ranted. Magnus stood firm by his decision, Ophelia would be sent up north to her Mother's estate and be taught away from the politics of the court. 

Elizabeth died shortly after, whether it was disease that took her, or the loss of her daughter. Ophelia was 10, Snow screamed through the funeral as Ophelia and her father struggled to stay stoic. Her father did shed a few tears as Lord Robert Mortimer, General of the Armies took Ophelia back up north. 

The summer of Snow’s 9th birthday, Elinor died. It was a horrible and drawn out death. Scarlet fever. 

The army invaded 4 month later. Black clad soldiers, seemingly made of glass. At 17 Ophelia wished to fight but Mortimer stopped her. 

“My sweet Prince. It is not safe for you to be out. You could get hurt and nothing would stop you from bleeding.” Ophelia was already donning her armor. 

“A prince of the realm should fight to protect it.”

“A prince of the realm who does not have the Spenser disease perhaps . You take forever to heal, simple nicks take months to close. You would die out there.” 

“I would not, I am a capable fighter! How will any of those Nobles follow me if I do not fight?’

“They will follow you because God has put his faith in you. You will be Queen by divine right.” 

“But that annoying little Princess?”

“You can marry her off to some foreign Prince, and you will never have to see her face again.” 

“They think she is prettier than I am…”

“You are beautiful, and strong. You will be a Queen to rival all others, a true born king like your ancestors. Like King Ælfthryth. King Ophelia. Now, please put the sword down.” 

“Alright.” Ophelia tossed the blade aside. 

“Come let us return to your comportment lessons.” 

“Very well Lord Mortimer.” Ophelia remained within her estate’s walls and did not go to battle. 

Magnus found a woman, captured by those soldiers. A beautiful woman named Ravenna, who claimed to come from a kingdom in the west. Magnus looked upon her shining beauty and instantly forgot his wife, Elinor dead and buried. Ravenna was to marry him immediately. 

They married in the Cathedral of Elmire. Ravenna wore white and Magnus was besotted. He had her by his side all the time. But he was still spending more time than the nobles thought necessary with Snow White. He had a young and fertile wife and she was being wasted. The Nobles worried that they had not seen Ophelia since her mother's death but Edward said his daughter was well. 

With Ravenna as Queen now, Edward felt secure to ask that his daughter be allowed to return. Ravenna’s eyes lit up as Edward explained his daughter's virtues. 

“Oh my darling Lord husband, She can spend time with Snow. It will be good for the girl to have a sister in the absence of her mother. I can only do so much for a girl who does not yet love me. But someone of her own blood, who could guide and delight her would be good.”

“If you so desire it, my beautiful wife.” 

“Oh, she could be my companion. Lord Spenser, send for your daughter and tell her that I desire her to be my Lady’s maid.” Edward looked agape. 

“Oh Queen Ravenna, I don’t think there are enough words to say how grateful I am, but I must warn you. My daughter is a little rough around the edges. She’s been alone for so long. Without her mother and I, surrounded by cold and unfeeling staff.” Edward embraced Ravenna with tears swimming in his eyes. 

“That poor girl has been alone for 8 years?”

“Yes, just tutors and old war heroes to teach her how to wield a blade.” 

“Not even village children she could speak to?” 

“She’s not allowed out in my absence, it would be dangerous. Someone could take her.”

“How old is she now?”

“18, I believe.”

“18! How sweet an age. Right on the cusp of womanhood.” 

“She will be delighted to join your service. ” 

  
  



	2. The Thistle Guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ophelia arrives in Court.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This FanFiction uses the canonical hours which are the seven specified hours for prayer to tell time.  
> Matins - Daybreak  
> Prime- 6 a.m.  
> Terce or Tierce- 9a.m.  
> Sext- noon  
> nones- 3 p.m.  
> Evensong/Vespers- Sunset  
> Compline- 9 or 10 p.m.

Ravenna could see why Elinor had hated the girl, deep black eyes and dark red hair, the shifting hue visible in the sunlit courtroom. The Spencer hair, the hair of Edmund and Edward and all the Spenser men before. She was small, petite, standing about 5 feet tall, her leather jerkin and tight trousers. The lace of her falling band collar reflected the light on to her face, brightening her dark eyes. Hair braided back, a thin silver coronet made of intertwining strawberry leaves high on her brow. She stood with a straight back flanked by an older man, grizzled from war. 

“Your Highnesses, might I be permitted to reintroduce to yourselves and the court. The Duke of Corven. Lady Ophelia De Spenser.” 

“Thank you Lord Mortimer. Welcome, my sweet niece. Welcome Home.” 

“I am pleased to be home once again, Uncle. I do apologize for my appearance—”

“Your appearance is befitting of a young prince. Come we would embrace you.” Magnus stood holding out his arms. Ophelia entwined in them, this girl was obviously worth more than even his own daughter who sat swinging her legs back and forth. She was a true blooded Spenser, there was no doubt a faction ready to back her claim to the throne. Nobles who were already planning whom she would marry and when the wedding would be. 

Ophelia was graceful as she dropped to one knee in front of Ravenna. “Your Highness,  _ my _ Queen. As the Commander of the Thistle Guard. I vow to protect you and your interests even if they differ from my own.” Emerald eyes met black and Ravenna felt a hunger. She had to have the girl. In those dark eyes, she could read an unspoken phrase  _ “Even those interests that differ from the King, and from Princess Snow.”  _ She knew instantly that Ophelia was easily swayed by a beautiful woman, surrounded by Army men she’d probably had her first prostitute at 15. 

“My Lady of the Thistle, I accept your protection and you as my guard. I do hope that you will be my companion as well.” 

“I would be honored, my Queen.” The nobles clapped and Ophelia struggled to catch her breath. Magnus’s new bride was too beautiful and she was beginning to feel covetous. He did not deserve a beauty like  _ Ravenna _ , not after all that she had put up with when Elinor was his queen. She did not even wish to acknowledge the child seated in the chair that should be her’s. Wearing the crown that rightfully should grace her brow, rather than the poor excuse that wrapped around her own. 

Ophelia caught Father Bartholomew’s arm, “My Lady, how can I be of service to you?” 

“Father, might I see you for confession?” 

“Of course my child. Come this way.” Ophelia followed him to the chapel. 

“Forgive me father for I have sinned, it’s been 6 years since my last confession.”

“What sins do you believe you have committed?”

“I have lain with a prostitute, and even worse I am breaking the 10th commandment as we speak.”

“You are a princess of the blood of you wish to lay with whores before your marriage there is nothing wrong with that. In regards to the tenth, is it a nobleman?”

“I desire the queen.” The words tumbled out of her. 

“I  _ see _ , I would suggest scourge lest you continue this self abuse.” 

“Thank you, Father.” 

“I would also suggest that you attend morning services. Use knotted cord, not leather. We don’t want you ruining your skin.” 

“Good Evening Father.” 

“We are so happy you are back, my prince.” 

Ophelia was shown to her chambers, Snow had been placed in her old rooms. So she was relegated to smaller ones. One’s closer to the queen's chamber. One’s that smelled of mildew and wet wool. She despised this palace, when she was finally King… she would rebuild this palace in her image all Gold and obsidian. 

Ophelia was struggling with the dresses. It wasn’t that she hated dresses, she loved to feel pretty. The feeling of silk, linen and fine muslin against her skin was intoxicating. Even more so than the cool touch of chainmail and leather. 

But this was uncomfortable. These dresses were too small, the seamstresses not having taken into account her bust and biceps. She could barely move her arms, hardly breathe. Her corset had to be tight-laced to fit into the dress the maid left. The bright colors and empire waists were not her style. These were modeled after her cousin’s and late aunt’s dresses. Not after the ones her mother had worn or even the way the queen dressed. Her personal tailor would have to be called to fix this, she looked hideous. 

Ravenna…her body warmed at just the thought of her. Those emerald eyes, hair like corn silk and her breasts… She shouldn’t be dividing the queen into parcels but she was envious of the man who got lay with her.

“Ophelia, are you well?” Lord Mortimer opened the door and took in the sight of the girl he’d raised for 10 years. The only child he’d ever truly had and he more of a father than she’d ever known. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Don’t lie to me little girl, I can see you chafing in that tight dress.” 

“Well I don’t have any others.” 

“Did you look at the bottom of your trunk? You stupid girl” Ophelia pulled one of her favorite dresses from under her armor. He’d packed her dresses even though they had been told that clothing would be ready when they arrived. 

“Oh, Mortimer thank you.” She embraced him, throwing her arms around him, the seams under her arms splitting. 

“I knew they’d never get your measurements right, those seamstresses have been doing this for years, no doubt to keep you from being prettier than the princess.” 

“But there’s only these three and they are terribly out of fashion.” 

“Well maybe the Queen will commission a new wardrobe for you.” He laughed. “Don’t worry I’ll send for Sir Howard, and he’ll bring some of your things up. Now get dressed, dinner is in an hour.”

“Yes, General.” Mortimer laughed, giving her a kiss on the forehead before he left. He really thought of her as more than his pupil, she was practically his daughter. 

Ophelia cut herself out of the dress, then no one would put it back in her closet. She did the same to the other four dresses that they sent. She stood before the large silver mirror, in her shift and corset. 

Ravenna sat before her own mirror, the image of the young duke dressing moving in the glass before her. She would have her, as soon as Magnus died. Her breasts had filled out as well as her hips, full lips and deep set black eyes. Her hair cascaded down her back in thick curls. She laced herself into a violet kirtle gown, the thin sheer silver silk inner sleeves visible under the stiff brocade outer ones. Her shoulders were exposed and the sleeves tied onto the dress. Her breasts pushed high in her corset, her waist small compared to her shoulders. Ravenna mused that she certainly did look a picture. 

Lady Ophelia was even prettier in candlelight. It caught at the red highlights in her hair and made it shimmer brilliantly. Ravenna smiles at her husband, who coos over his daughter. The girl is ten and still her father cuts her meat and cools her soup. 

Snow White has never suffered in her life, her cheeks are plump and rosy. Her eyes bright and her appetite undiminished by life. Ophelia envies her, her own appetite has disappeared the moment Duke Hammond’s eldest son leered at her. She always forgets despite her titles and sword she’s a woman. Richard Hammond points to her subtly talking to his little brother William who only has eyes for the little princess.

“Lady Ophelia, might I say you look ravishing tonight. In the throne room, I figured you for a regular shield maid but you certainly are very pretty.” Richard Hammond grabs her hand as she moves to leave the dining hall. 

“You know, you’re not as fat as I remember. Dickie.” 

“I prefer to be called Richard, Ophelia. I was hoping I might be able to call on you this week.” 

“Oh, I umm. Perhaps but I may be busy. Finding my way around the castle and such.”

“I doubt she will be able to join you, Richard.” Ravenna placed a possessive hand around Ophelia’s waist. “I need time to get to know my new companion. I think my needs far outweigh yours, boy.” 

“I do apologize, my queen. I hope to see you soon, Lady Ophelia.” He kissed her hand, she wanted to retch as his unshaven cheek rubbed her hand. 

“Come, we’ll walk to our rooms together.” Ravenna leads Ophelia to her chambers. She has to control herself, feeling the girls heart thrumming under her fingertips as she brushes invisible dust from the girls collar. “I’d like us to have dinner tomorrow. Just us, I’d like to know my sweet, sweet protector.” She gave Ophelia a kiss on the cheek. 

“Yes, your majesty.” Ophelia curtsey's feeling terribly warm. 

“You certainly must get to bed, too much wine has left you flushed.” 

“Oh course my queen, I look forward to dinner.” Ophelia closed the door to her Ravenna’s chambers and walked swiftly to her own.


	3. The Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This FanFiction uses the canonical hours which are the seven specified hours for prayer to tell time.  
> Matins - Daybreak  
> Prime- 6 a.m.  
> Terce or Tierce- 9a.m.  
> Sext- noon  
> nones- 3 p.m.  
> Evensong/Vespers- Sunset  
> Compline- 9 or 10 p.m.

_ I’d like to see you tonight after vespers.  _

_ — Ravenna  _

Ophelia looked over the note again as Mortimer droned on about something as they ate breakfast. Her usual breakfast of porridge and berries had been replaced by a practical feast. Meat, Potatoes, poached eggs and fruit. Mortimer complained that their usual cold meat pie was not present. Ophelia didn’t, she was too engrossed in the note. Ravenna’s penmanship was beautiful. 

“Ophelia, are you awake child?”

“Oh sorry Uncle, I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Well, you can always go back to bed for a while. No one will judge you and I can keep away the questions.”

“I’d rather train first.”

“Now I hate to put my foot down but you shouldn’t be training now. There are men out there whom you certainly can hold your own against but you’d be better off resting before you run out there.” 

“Perhaps tomorrow then.” 

“Yes, tomorrow would be better.”

“I should take a bath, it’s been a while since I’ve had one.”

“If that is what you’d like. I’ll leave you to it.” 

“Uncle, have you asked Sir Howard to come to court?”

“Yes, he shall be here before Torsdag.” 

“That is good, I’d like to have all of my advisors here. I’d like Sir Howard to choose my handmaidens. I’m supposed to have those…am I not?”

“Yes, it is time for you to begin working on your household. I will begin working on that immediately.” Mortimer stood to leave. “Ophelia do not attempt to paint your own face again.” 

“I will not, I give you my word.” 

“And no sword fighting.” 

“I promise, Uncle.” Mortimer ruffled her hair as he left. Ophelia turned back to her breakfast helping herself to more. There was no reason to deprive herself, was there? More meat and eggs with several pieces of fine white bread to sop it all up. She’d never eaten so well. Which frankly struck her as odd, if she was the heir to this kingdom why had she grown in squalor. In a castle no better than barracks. She remembered living in this palace with her mother and father, a new dress every month and more food than she could eat. To threadbare clothing, one new dress a year and food that barely satisfied her adolescent hunger. She was lucky she was not malnourished. 

It wasn’t until she was older that she learned that the majority of her things had been funded by Lord Mortimer and Sir Howard. The crown had given her nothing. Locked her away from her family and friends. Queen Elinor had insisted the guards follow her every instruction, so Ophelia was placed in a practical prison. 

Her hands flew out and pushed one of the larger serving dishes off the table and it clattered to the floor. This was supposed to be her kingdom, that little brat was living her life. She spent her entire childhood and adolescence in pain. The cold biting through her thin clothes, tears streamed down her face. 

Alone, she was alone. No one would love her ever, she would never marry. There was a knock at the door. She wiped the tears away, her voice shaky “Come in.” 

“Lady Ophelia, I’ve come to help you in any way you need.” 

“Draw me a bath…Please.” The maid was short with red hair. Ophelia liked her freckles. “What is your name?”

“Violet, M’lady.”

“Violet, that is a beautiful name.” 

“Thank you M’lady. my husband thinks so too.” Ophelia was taken aback at that, she never understood women who needed to announce they were married as if she was going to jump them. 

“Just fill the bath and set out my clothes. You can be on your way after that. Oh and clean up that mess.” 

“Of course, M’lady.” Ophelia laid down on the bed. Sometimes she genuinely enjoyed being nasty. 

“Oh and Violet this room is very dusty and I despise the drapery could you do something about that?”

“Oh, yes, miss.” 

“Good.” Violet finished filling the tub, with hot water. 

“Do you need help in the bath?” 

“No, I’m perfectly competent.” Ophelia removed her outer robe, keeping on her chemise as Violet was still in the room.

“Oh Miss your back!” 

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you it was rude to comment on your employers appearance.” 

“Yes, I’m sorry M’lady.” 

“Get out.” 

“Sorry, M’lady.” Ophelia watched the girls bottom lip wobble.

“Get out!” Ophelia dipped completely under the water. Her chemise bubbled up around her. She ran her fingers over the thick scarring on her shoulder. The scars criss crossed her back. She plucked at the linen sheet lining the copper tub. Violet had filled the bath with lavender and sage. At least the girl wasn’t hopeless, she grabbed for the soap and the brush rubbing the soap on the bristles. She’d never had a maid before and frankly she didn’t think she would need one, the girl could, no would be dismissed. 

She scrubbed till her skin bloomed red, the brush sinking to the bottom of the tub. She held her breath and submerged herself in the water. Resting her head on the floor of the tub she opened her eyes, the soap stung. How easy it would be when she was queen, everyone would follow her. 

“Ophelia! My child, where are you?” Her father called from the doorway, the spineless man who allowed her to be locked away. She fixed her face and emerged from the water. 

“Good Morning father. How are you?”

“I’m fine, are you well?”

“Yes—”

“Is everything in working order? Your umm, developing properly?”

“Father, we need not speak on this. Lord Mortimer has seen to my every need and has sent documentation to those who need it. I am perfectly healthy.” 

“And you are happy?”

“I will be happy when I am queen. I am happy to finally be back at court.” 

“That is good.” 

“Is there something you wanted father?” 

“Do I need to have a reason to visit my only daughter?”

“You’ve never made an effort before. Would you hand me my dressing gown?”

“It was not possible for me before…”

“You could have tried.” Ophelia stood, wrapping the linen garment around her shoulders. “But it seems you were weak, father.” 

“Ophelia, I understand you are angry…”

“I am above anger, Father. I am disgusted.  _ I  _ am disappointed.” Ophelia climbed into bed motioning for her father to close the curtains. “I feel betrayed. I thought you loved me better.” 

“I do. Things are complicated you’ll understand when you are older.”

“Trust me father when I am older. Things will change.”

“Daughter. I urge you to choose peace over revenge.” 

“How would I get revenge on a dead woman? What is done is done.” 

“Well I am glad to see you hold no hatred in your heart.” 

“Yes father. Now please, I have had a long journey and no time to rest.” 

“Yes, my child.” Ophelia watched her father leave and finally when she was alone she curled in on herself. 

The bell tolled nones, the sound of chanting floated up to her bedroom from the nearby cathedral. The sound of monks and nuns chanting always made it seem like things were right in the world. Even when it all seemed like all was lost she could count on the sound of bells. She wanted to press her face to the cool colored glass of the west facing windows. But the thought of leaving the bed, of being caught in a position where someone might ask something of her. When she was tucked in bed no one bothered her.


	4. Dinner with the Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravenna and Ophelia have dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning slight character death.

Ophelia felt an itch that started on her fingertips and spread up to her palms. She had promised Lord Mortimer that she would not sword fight but she had never promised to not pick up a bow. She wasn’t the best archer, her body was honed for swordplay, but she liked the feeling of the tension of the bow and flight of the arrow through the air. 

She wouldn’t get injured on an archery range. Her arrow flew through the air, the fletching scraping her face. The thin hairline scrape was right against her cheek, the blood trickled at first little rivulets splattering against her collar. 

She didn’t feel it, another arrow pulled from the quiver. The same exact place was scraped again and again as the arrows kept hitting the target. Her neck was warm and wet but felt no different than the other side which was coated in sweat. She’d amassed quite a group of onlookers. 

She felt faint, something grabbed her from behind. A hand pressed a cloth against her cheek as the yelling started. 

“You stupid girl! I told you to not come out here.”

“General, is she okay?” 

“She’s fine, Captain, the princess just tends to forget that she herself is human.” 

“Aye, she is a proud warrior like her father.” Ophelia felt strong arms wrap around her and pick her up. 

“I’m sorry Uncle Mortimer.” Her cheek was still bleeding. 

“Shut up you stupid little girl. I thought I was clear! No practicing!”

“You said no sword play, nothing about archery.” 

“You are such a fucking moron, do you want to die?” 

“No…” 

“You are lucky, the bleed is slowing.” Her body was healing the scrape beginning to scab over. Mortimer looked shocked, perhaps she was growing out of it. Perhaps it was not as horrible as it was when she was a child. Afterall Queen Elinor had been the one to tell him of her condition. 

But larger cuts didn’t stop that quickly, perhaps it was fluke, or witchcraft. They would never speak of this. 

He deposited her in her room. “You are not to leave this room, keep the cloth to your face.” WE retrieved a jar of salve, and she retched at the smell. “You wouldn’t have to use it if you didn’t injure yourself.” The salve came from a healer up north. She was sure it was just beef tallow with herbs. 

“Rest Ophelia, you are not to go to dinner in the hall this evening. But you may meet with the queen.” Ophelia skulked around her room for hours, the cut slowly disappearing on her face. The witchcraft of the old healer seems to take better effect in the castle. 

She looked at the things that had been brought from storage for her, most of her toys were missing. Her beautiful porcelain dolls she had been forced to leave behind must be in the possession of that little brat. 

Darkness began to creep into the sky. The castle was mostly at dinner in the great hall. The laughing floated through the vents along with the stench of charred meat and spoiled beer. 

She’d forgone the corset, the linen gown, pure white in the moonlight caught the light, her hair fell in loose curls down her back. Sir Howard would say she looked like a virgin sacrifice. White was never really her color but she loved this dress. It was soft and made her breasts look bigger then they actually were. 

She slipped into the hallway, the stone radiated the cold. Snow was beginning to fall. 

Her palms were sweaty, is this how people felt when they were in love? 

Ravenna’s chamber doors were gilded with images of saints. She’d only been in the queen’s chamber once before. Elinor had called her in as a young child, her back burned with the memory. 

The smell of foreign incense filled her nose, sheer white silks covered the windows and bed. Ravenna sat ready for bed, her robe open. “Ophelia, I am so happy you could join me.” She stood and crossed to her. 

“Your majesty.” She dropped into a short curtsy. 

“None of that please. I am Ravenna.” A cold hand caresses Ophelia’s face. “I had food sent up for us, I know you don’t eat a lot in the hall.” 

Ophelia sat down in a chair across from Ravenna, the fire burned hot in a grate as she sipped on wine. All the tension left her body. “Ophelia, how have you been adjusting to court?” 

“It has certainly been interesting. I suppose if I grew up here it would have been easy to balance courtiers and judgemental ladies. But I was raised by scholars and generals in  _ prison _ up north.” 

“A Prison?”

“Sure it was my mother’s estate, but I will not sugarcoat my formative years.” 

“Elinor wanted you gone didn’t she?”

“She hoped I would die up north. That they would all just forget about me.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, curling into the chair. 

“Well her plan obviously didn’t work. Besides, her daughter is absolutely moronic.”

“Snow’s not a moron, she's just naive. She believes her mother is a saint.” Ophelia gasped. “Please don’t ruin her mother…”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, your secret is safe with me.” Ravenna filed the confession of Elinor’s abuse away in her head for ammunition against nobles. 

“Thank you,” She yawned. “I might have to cut this short, I am feeling very tired.” 

“No need to leave, why don’t you sit on my bed? We can talk in a place where you are most comfortable.” 

“I don’t want to impose.”

“You could never be an imposition.” Ravenna took her hand and pulled her to bed. “Go on, make yourself comfortable.” Ophelia laid against pillows the heavy woolen blanket pulled up to her chest. 

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t worry about it, you just rest. You’ve a large destiny before you.” Ophelia slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

The knights, made of dark smoked glass amassed at the gates of the castle. The screams of women and children echoed into the night. Ophelia slept through it all, Ravenna tasted the wine Ophelia had been drinking, the perfect amount of sleeping potion. The girl would be out for a while. No amount of noise will rouse her. It was perfect, the girl would be unscathed and with all her family gone, completely reliant on her. 

Edward ran towards the soldiers, his sword ran through one. The sound of glass shattering and the clinking of metal on stone. As each enemy soldier fell two more appeared to take its place. 

“It’s witchcraft, Brother!” Magnus backed up toward Edward. 

“Well I wouldn’t know anything about witchcraft, Brother dear. I afterall did not anger them by decreeing that they stop worshipping their gods and practicing their rituals.” 

“So you are implying this is all my fault?” 

“Actually Marcus I am saying it is your fault. You married that horrible woman!”

“Elinor was not horrible-”

“Really, she ruined every negotiation you ever had demanding more silk, more jewels.”

“You are just jealous of me, always were.”

“Really? Because everything you have is because of me!” An arrow flew through the air and pierced his shoulder. “Marcus!” More arrows flew through the air. Right through his back. Edward fell to his knees. “Take care of her.” The final arrow ran through his throat. 

Marcus reached for his brother. “I am so sorry.” A knight came up behind him. Dark sword raised above his head. It came down with a sickening crack and Marcus fell over his brother's body. 

Ravenna looked down from the tower, every great Taborian hero was dead. The future king slept soundly as the battle raged on. Her chest rose softly, “How pretty you’ll look on that throne.” 


End file.
